Between The Lines (Of OUAT)
by CathyCat2709
Summary: Oh, Emma Swan can read between the lines, alright. But it's a rather a blurry line between love and hate she has to realize when she falls into a secret affair with the one and only Regina Mills. (Swan Queen off-screen relationship in Season one. Kinda canon divergent-ish but not really since everything on-screen remains the same. Kicks off at 1x05)
1. That still small voice

**A/N: The story will be rated T, there will be no explict scenes beyond a make out session.**

 **Each episode will contain several chapters, all written in third person but from Emma's perspective.**

 **Be aware that english isn't my first language and even though queergirlwriting has done a wonderful job as my beta I probably will have missed quiet a lot of mistakes. Feel free to point them out. R &R will be greatly appreciated :) **

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Emma shivers and pulls her beloved leather jacket tighter around her.

Even a nice spring night can only be so warm in Maine after the sun has set.

Most of the people involved in Henry and Archie's rescue packed up after Henry had been brought home. And more and more people are leaving the after-rescue celebration due to the late hour and plunging temperatures.

Even Graham excused himself a while ago to catch a minimum of sleep before his early shift.

Thank god Emma can sleep in late tomorrow.

After the adrenalin wore down, the exhaustion from the constant fear and worry about Henry crashes in.

Of course she was worried for Archie, too, but he's a grown man, it was his own decision to follow Henry into the mine shaft, he knew the risk.

Actually, she has hoped for a moment to speak with Archie about... well, everything that happened that day but it looks like it'll have to wait until the next morning.

Dr Hopper doesn't seem to be interested in calling it a night.

He is in the thick of the remaining crowd - talking, laughing, petting Pongo, drinking the beer someone conjured up; celebrating life.

In fact, the relief of getting out of the mines alive had him looking quiet a few years younger. Like a weight has been lifted of his shoulders.

So when Regina returns from having put Henry to bed and orders the still fragile mining area to be cleared, Archie invites everyone for a drink at the Rabbit Hole.

Which Emma declines politely. She just wants to go back to the apartment, catch some sleep and process this whole day. She's even too tired to be hungry.

"Miss Swan, have you seen the Sheriff?" Regina approaches her when she reaches the makeshift parking area, laughter, good nights and laters being shout around them. (Emma just prays that the drivers are somewhat sober.)

"He went home an hour ago. Morning shift, you know." she explains quickly, too tired and unwilling to get into another match with the mayor today.

"Oh, well then, goodnight, Miss Swan." Regina nods and turns to leave.

Backtracking is not a good look on Regina, Emma notes.

All though the blonde wants nothing more than to go home and collapse into bed, she stops the other woman.

"You know, I'm deputy now. I can take care of it for Graham."

Regina eyes the blonde suspiciously at her offer but even that lacks the usual vinegar.

While the brunette weighs her possibilities, Emma realizes how weird it is to see her like this; dust and dirt on her clothes, the dress pants wrinkled from scrunching on the ground without heels, her hair not perfect for once and arms hugging her coat tightly to fight off the cold.  
But what disturbs her most, is the weariness on Regina's face. She isn't used to anything but fire and ice in those brown eyes.

Except when the blonde first came to Storybrook and Regina didn't even glance at the stranger in her driveway, too relieved to see her son alive and kicking.

Clearly, this day had its effects on everybody if even the mayor gets stripped of her usual mask.

"My car has a flat tire but really, I can just call a tow truck. Goodnight, Deputy." Regina eventually expounds, but again Emma holds her back.

"Gus left with Ruby, so I don't think you'll be seeing much of him tonight."

Regina just sighs.

No snappy remark about the towing service being 24/7 or Ruby's nightly activity keeping other people from work. Nothing. Just a defeated sigh.

But Emma knows Regina. She may be ready to drop but she's too proud to ask Emma - actually anyone, but especially Emma - for a ride home.

Looking how pretty much everyone has up and left on the mayor's command by now, she doesn't have much of a choice.

Well, Emma could just say karma is a bitch, go home and let Regina walk – it's not like the brunette would bother if the roles were reversed - or she could let the mayor squirm until the brunette finally gets over herself and asks for help...  
But just when the deputy seriously starts considering the option she notices the hint of red in the corner of Regina's eyes.

It's been a long day and both are exhausted, physically as well as emotionally.

Maybe, just for once, they could both not be stubborn and proud and put their differences aside.

"I could drive you home." She shrugs like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Regina opens her mouth to reject, glancing skeptically at the VW beetle behind the deputy, but Emma will have none of it.

They both know that in the end Emma will drive Regina home because for whatever reason she doesn't quiet understand herself, the blonde is still trying to be the better person here when she has all the reasons in the world to be just a awful to the mayor as she has been to her.

So what's the point in having another argument when they don't have really have a lot of options- good options.

"Graham will fire me if he hears I've left someone all alone at this hour," she offers Regina a way out without having to swallow her pride.

"I wasn't aware how attached you already are to the job, Miss Swan." Regina taunts with a fatigue shadow of her usually taunting and sarcastic smile.

"There's a lotta things you don't know 'bout me, Madame Mayor. Now hop in." Emma orders as she climbs into the bug.

Regina follows her hesitantly, carefully shutting the car door as if the metal might give out under a strong grip.

It's weird to be in such a small space with the woman who drives her up the wall just for the sake of it, but Emma ignores it and starts the car, the engine spluttering to life.

"I'm not sure this... car is safer than waiting alone for a tow truck at night."

"Stop dissing my car. It works just fine." There's a rattle when Emma drives over a bump in the road, undermining her words. She huffs.

"I can see that." Regina scoffs sarcastically but it's a little less biting and a bit more amused than her common digs.

"Regina." the blonde warns her because, really, she has no energy left to come up with clever remarks for their usual fierce battle of words.

It's uncomfortable at first, sitting there in silence with a woman you have never had any nice words left for, but after a while it's almost refreshing to not be fighting.

But even in their exhausted state, they can only bear this awkward silence crawling underneath their skin for so long.

"Thank you, Regina." Emma blurs out of nowhere.

"What for?" Regina asks, puzzled.

It was Emma who found Henry. Emma who had the idea with Pongo. And Emma who was lowered into the shaft.

"You know, organizing everything. The firefighters, building workers, the tow truck... I wouldn't have known what to do, who to call." The blonde shrugs, almost regretting she said anything because it's just so hard to be honest, pocketing her pride, and trusting not to be burned.

She had felt so useless back at the scene. She couldn't get to Henry, she didn't know what to do. She had been close to digging her way through the collapsed shaft with her bare hands if Regina hadn't taken matters into her own hand.

"Well, you should know, Deputy." Regina accuses harshly. She isn't used to this, this openness and honesty between them. What is it that the blonde expects out of her nice words?

This truce is weird, too easy to fall into. The mayor struggles to keep up her safety walls.

"Well, now I know, Madame Mayor." Emma mocks her, pulling up into Mifflin Street.

"I call you," she adds coyly, catching how the other woman rolls her eyes.

"I am not 911, Miss Swan. That's your job. You wanted it that way."

It's a weak attempt of their common quarrels and arguments but it's familiar enough to forget the awkwardness.

"Please," Emma snorts, "as if you could bear to leave the control of the situation to anyone else. You're a controlist." she teases, parking the bug right in front of the mansion, and gets out.

"Controlist isn't a word, Miss Swan," Regina explains impatiently as she climbs out of the car.

The blonde shares a triumphant smirk over the yellow car roof and Regina huffs, shutting the door a little harshly.

"Whoa there, don't let it out on my car."

"It's not a car, it's a metal coffin on wheels," Regina sneers, walking around said car up to the gate.

"That got you home just fine," the deputy defends her beloved car as she holds the paled gate open for the other woman.

"Lucky coincidence." the brunette replies dryly as they walk up to the door with the golden number 108.

"I bet the Bug'll live longer than your fancy Benz," Emma dares her dialog partner.

"Be ready to loose that bet any time, Miss Swan," the mayor replies cockily, turning to give the blonde a smirk, confident of her victory.

Their conversation comes to an abrupt halt when they realize they're standing on Regina's porch.  
As they stare at each other awkwardly, Emma realizes how small the larger than life woman actually is without heels.

"Well then..." the deputy mutters, embarrassed, hands in her jeans pockets. She hopes Regina lets her behavior slide because she has really no explanation as to why she basically walked the brunette home instead of just dropping her off.

"Thank you for the ride, Miss Swan." The words don't even sound too painful or forced.

"You're welcome, Madame Mayor." Emma shrugs but lingers. It'd be weird to just turn and leave, wouldn't it?

"You can go now, Deputy Swan. You've fulfilled your civic duty," the mayor offers her politely but it's too stiff and awkward to be either nice or snarky.

"Haven't you been taught to wait until the person is actually inside the house to make sure they haven't forgotten their keys or something?"

Really? Emma asked herself in annoyance and embarrassment. The exhaustion must've switched of her common sense, that was just about the most stupid thing she could've come up with.

But something inside her dreads going back to the apartment, back to a pre-school teacher who will heat her up some leftovers and ask about her day and then panic about the drama that is her love life instead when she realizes that her roommate doesn't want to relive the terror of almost losing her son today.

It feels suffocating, this worrying and carefully pushing and understanding but not really getting it, and Emma just wants to flee it. She wants to argue about cars and eating habits and avoid the terrifying and hurtful subject of today's events together in some unspoken agreement.

This time it's Regina who plays along and gives the other woman an out.

She takes her keys out of her pocket and holds them in front of the blonde for proof.

"Do you want to come inside and make sure there is not burglar or murderer waiting for me, too, Deputy?" she teases, unlocking her front door.

"Would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?" Emma mumbles, dumbfounded at the absurd situation, but her feet carry her after Regina.

"I'll get us a drink while you check for any intruders." Regina's tone is almost too light to be stultify the deputy and she wonders what kind of game they're playing and why the brunette knows the rules and she doesn't as she closes the door behind her and follows Regina into the study, knowing that no one would actually dare to trespass the mayor's house.

"That was quick work, Deputy. Apple cider?" the brunette offers.

Maybe it's what tiredness does to Regina. Emma's sharp tongue fails her completely and Regina's suddenly becomes chatty.

To hell with it. It's been a long, exhausting day and Emma could really use a drink.

"Let's make it clear; any run over signs after this are on you," the blonde quips, taking the offered glass, and drops onto the couch.

"Maybe I'll cut your budget to repair the damage." Regina throws the joke right back at her as she sits down on the free armchair on the opposite site of the table. (Of course, a lot more gracefully.)

"If you cut any more money from the police department, we'll have to start chasing criminals on foot. The cruiser is a metal coffin."

"Oh, please. The only thing you'll be chasing in this town are hot beverages," Regina snickers, taking a sip of her apple cider.

"That's not true!" Emma protests.

"Oh really? Do enlighten me, deputy," the brunette challenges with an amused chuckle.

"Okay, so Storybrook might not have any classic criminals but I've searched for an amnesic coma patient and chased a pregnant teenager who's made a deal with the devil and that was even before I became deputy!" Emma lists just to wipe that amused grin of the mayor's face.  
Storybrook was not that perfect and peaceful.

"And look at today! Maybe I'll resign, this is even crazier than bounty hunting."

Emma immediately regrets bringing up the mine incident, afraid she might have broken the ruler of their unspoken truce.

She expects to be thrown out any minute now. It's only a matter of time before Regina snaps out of this almost peaceful state and realizes she's invited the woman she loathes into her home.

But instead Regina ignores the tension and Emma thinks that maybe, perhaps, the mayor doesn't want to face what happened alone tonight either.

"Would you like another drink?" she changes the subject, reaching for the bottle of apple cider.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Just one. I still gotta drive."

...

Famous last words.

Of course it doesn't stop at just one other drink.

In fact, at some point they pick random bottles out of Regina's liquor stash and let the other guess what it is.

It amuses the hell out of the blonde that Regina owns the cheapest whiskey and wine that cost more than a car. No in between.

Which somehow leads to a heated discussion about taste. More specifically; clothing taste.

"Oh, please, you love my jacket!" Emma exclaims, hitting the table with her glass to emphasize her words.

Neither woman cares that liquor spills onto the table. And if they did care, they would've notice that there was quiet the pond around the brunette's glass on the table as well. Coasters long forgotten.

Neither cares that Emma has her still boot-clad feet tucked underneath her on the expensive couch and her jacked lies in a pile on the floor. Or that Regina's words are a little less perfectly pronounced and thought through than normally as her eyes are glued to the woman sitting next to her by this point who subconsciously licks the spilled alcohol of her fingers.

"It's cheap and the color is an eyesore. Like your car."

"What's it with you and my car? Should the Benz be jealous?"

Regina burst out laughing as if it was the most absurd and funny thing she's ever heard.

What's absurd, is that two woman who could never exchange two sentence without insults hidden (more or less) beneath hostile words, are now doing the exact opposite; talking and laughing about just anything. (Almost anything, never anything more than anything casual.)

Who would've though Regina's remarks come in funny, too?

Who would've thought it could be this easy and light and comfortable with her?

"Maybe, Madame Mayor, you really are jealous that I don't give a flying fuck," - Regina gasps comically at the cussword - "about looking proper and impressing everyone and just wear whatever the hell is comfortable." Emma somehow manages a straight sentence (even if less filtered and more profane than it should be), poking Regina's side.

Regina yelps. The mayor actually lets out a high pitched, girly yelp.

"Miss Swan."

Now someone's in trouble.

"Yes, Miss Mills?" Emma challenges with an innocent grin.

The big storm never comes. The brunette's scowl transforms into a giggle.

And that's when Emma realizes they've had too much to drink, but boy, she couldn't care less.

Regina has such a beautiful laugh.

"What?" Regina asks irritated when she feels Emma bluntly staring at her.

"Nothing." the blonde smiles and if she had been sober, she would've realize she has to look cross-eyed at Regina because they were so close to each other.

"Come on, Emma." the mayor almost whines.

"No."

"Miss Swan, why does everything have to be a struggle with you?" Regina sighs frustrated and this time Emma chokes out a laugh.

"I think you like it that way. You like a challenge. Someone who's a match for you."

Now it's Regina who is staring. Staring at the blonde like maybe she'll find the answer to the puzzle that is Emma Swan somewhere in those orbs that are not quite blue and not quite green.

Emma's mind flashes to earlier that day when Regina had been so raw and vulnerable in front of her and stepped so close that the blonde could smell the expensive, subtle perfume and discover the brunette's lip scar hidden beneath make up for the first time.

Just like earlier that day, the deputy's eyes glimpse at plump lips before flicking up again. Her breath catches.

Regina's eyes are like magnets. Magnetic, liquid chocolate.

Emma wonders for a brief moment why Regina hides behind a mask if she could be like this; warm and sweet and absolutely breathtaking.

There's a dark strand of hair falling in front of the eyes Emma recently discovered to be so fascinating and without any conscious decision, her hands picks it up to place it behind Regina's ear*dead*.

The blonde blushes and smiles in embarrassment when she realizes what she's done but she doesn't pull back.

Encouraged by enough liquor, she even lingers, slowly tracing over soft skin down a magnificent jawline.

The moment probably doesn't last longer than a few seconds but the blonde can see so many thoughts and emotions in brown eyes as they race through Regina's mind that it feels like minutes, leaving both breathless.

Thoughts and emotions Emma doesn't dare to interpret, scared that she might be wrong.

And maybe even more afraid to be right.

All what ifs are washed away as Regina abruptly dashes forward, grabbing a fistful of a dark tank top, and all she can feel are lips pressed together.

It's an awkward angle and for a moment Emma is completely shell shocked but then she melts, they both just melt into the kiss. A clumsy and fumbling kiss, but what a clumsy and fumbling kiss it is.

Emma's eyes flutter close as she wraps an arm around the brunette's midsection, the other cradling the mayor's face.

Regina softens her grip, her arms sneaking around Emma's neck and into blonde hair. Pulling her impossibly closer.

Emma almost can't breath and Regina's ring catches in her hair but god, she doesn't give a damn as their mouths move together.

All she cares about is expensive perfume and smooth skin under her fingertips and luscious curves and the faint taste of alcohol on dark pink lips.

Regina's tongue traces along the corner of the blonde's mouth, softly, almost playfully.

A groan escapes their kiss and Emma nibs teasingly at full lips, tasting the remains of red wine.

A picture of a different, far more intimate version of their little liquor-guessing game flashes through the blonde's mind and she giggles.

Emma is thrown harshly back into reality when the armrest of the couch knock the air out of her lounges and everything is cold and hard and hurting when she opens her eyes.

Regina is up and halfway across the room before the blonde can so much as regain her senses, one manicured hand pressed onto her lipstick-smeared mouth, the other clutched to a fist in front of her stomach as her eyes widen with the realization of what just happened.

The blonde should've seen it coming, should've expected it and god, it shouldn't hurt so much to see the horror in brown eyes.

Emma opens her mouth to say something, anything that'll ease the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, but nothing makes it out as she stares helplessly up to the brunette.

"See yourself out, Deputy." Regina presses out and flees out of the room before the other woman can so much as move an inch.

Maybe Emma should go after her, maybe she shouldn't, but when she hears hurried footsteps on the stairs leading to the bedrooms, she knows she won't.

Dazed, she stands up, taking ungainly footsteps out of the room.

She looks up the stairs and tears well up in her eyes.

It shouldn't hurt so much to have Regina so horrified and disgust from their kiss that she has to hide from having to look at Emma, to look at her terrible mistake.

The blonde finally turns to leave, feet heavy and mind numb.

She doesn't register a thing until her hand pulls on the locked car door and the cold takes her by surprise.

Her jacket still lies on the floor of Regina's study, keys and phone neatly tugged in the inside pocket.

Looking back, she sees only dark windows and a closed front door.

Emma swallows her tears of frustration, desperation and hurt and just starts walking. She walks and then she's walking faster and faster until she's jogging and then running and running and running. She lucky that there's not a soul outside in Storybrook at this time or she would've been hit by a car in her blind run, only stopping when she stands in front of the apartment door, sweating and panting.

She doesn't dare to think, doesn't dare to remember. She just concentrates on taking the spare key from its hiding place, unlocking, entering and closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.

Tiptoeing up the stairs, she realizes she hasn't been sneaking around like this since one of her last foster homes. But this is a whole new level of walk of shame.

She doesn't dwell on the thought.

She doesn't dwell on the dark pink color she wipes of her face along with the rest of her make up.

Her body is getting ready for bed on auto pilot and she's thankful that the exhaustion of the day knocks her out as soon as she hits the mattress, giving her no time to slip into unhealthy thinking patterns alone in the darkness.


	2. inside her head

Clattering plates from downstairs wake her and Emma knows it's way to early to wake up on a day with the late shift even before she pries her eyes open.

The light from the window blinds her and she feel like she's been run over by a truck.

She can't imagine the headache she would have if she had joined Archie yesterday.

The blonde just wants to fall back into sleep but she knows the noises won't allow her, so she swings herself out of bed with a defeated sigh and drags herself downstairs.

"Morning," she mutters to a way too chipper Mary Margaret as she reaches the kitchen, still in a tank top and sweatpants.

"Morning, Emma. I'm sorry, did I wake you?" the teacher inquires, sorting the clean plates from the dishwasher into the cabinets.

" 'S alright. Do we have any Aspirin?" Emma mumbles, sinking onto a chair at the counter.

"Oh, yes. It's in the bathroom, second closet to the right. Should I get it for you?"

"No, thanks," the blonde waves off, not being able to bear any noise the chipper pre-school teacher will make.

"I'll get it later," she mutters, burying her head in her arms on the counter.

"Must've been one hell of a party yesterday, huh?"

"What?" the blonde snaps up.

"At the Rabbit Hole."

"The Rabbit Hole." Emma repeats and Mary Margaret chuckles.

"Gossip spreads like wildfire in this town, you know."

She declined the invitation from Archie.

"Just so you know, you can call me next time and I'll pick you up." Mary Margaret offers motherly but Emma pays her no mind.

She didn't go to the Rabbit Hole.

She drove Regina home.

The memories hit her with brute force.

The awkward truce.

The drinking.

The laughing.

The playful teasing.

The kiss.

The rejection.

"You okay, Emma?"

"Wha- yeah, no, I'm fine," the blonde lies not very believably.

"I didn't go to the Rabbit Hole. I just have a headache," she adds as if it would explain everything.

"Then why did you walk home?" the teachers asks confused.

"I forgot my jacket somewhere. With keys and phone and all."

God only knows where that relatively believable explanation came from.

"Good thing you're deputy now. No one would dare to steal your things." Mary Margaret states with an encouraging smile as she whirls around the apartment to collect her several books, notepads and a pencil case.

"Yeah." Emma says dryly, happy that her roommate wasn't able to see the dark look on her face.

"Maybe Graham already got a hold of it," the brunette calls as she grabs her jacket.

Emma's face darkens further.

"Maybe."

Or maybe Regina has this hideous jacket shredded to pieces and burned already just to make Emma's life a bit more miserable.

In the light of day it's so much easier to be angry and loathing towards Regina for the stunt last night than asking why no one wants her, why everyone lulls her in and pushes her way and why she lets them...

Or maybe the daylight doesn't help at all.

"I think I'll pick up some coffee at Granny's before school. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Go."

"Okay, see you later, Emma." Mary Margaret bids her a happy goodbye, closing the front door behind her, and the deputy wonders whether she doesn't notice her bad mood or if she doesn't want to. Or maybe she wants to get away from her.

Or maybe, sweet, caring Mary Margaret knows she can't do anything to help and just wants to give her some space.

...

Emma tries to keep herself busy for as long as possible; Coffee (and aspirin), a long shower with the radio on full volume, breakfast, unpacking the last things from her move, scrubbing the counter, watching the news – she even spends more time on her hair and make up than necessary.

But somewhere between nine and ten she just gives in and grabs her blue leather jacked, her badge and the spare key.

She knows she can't keep herself busy any longer to avoid thinking about certain things or she'll spend the rest of her day in a haze.

She locks the front door behind her and puts the spare key in place again before she starts walking down the main street to the sheriff station.

A few people greet her with polite – some even with genuine – smiles.

It's the distraction she asked for but somehow she sees scandal, disgust and pity in every curt nod, twitching mouth and hurried departure.

She's imagining things – she knows that – but still it raises fear that everyone knows as Mary Margaret's words echo in her mind.

"Hello, Emma. Lovely day, isn't it?" Archie approaches her, Pongo waving his tail.

"Yeah," she gives a short reply.

"Too bad you missed out yesterday. Will you bring Henry for his session today?"

Henry.

Emma wants nothing more than to see Henry and make sure he's okay, but she knows Regina will be hovering over him, even more than usually.

"Uh, no, I don't- I don't think so."

"I see," Archie says, way too knowing. "Have a good day, Emma."

"You too, Archie," the blonde says, not knowing what else to do.

She remembers wanting to talk to Archie because she wasn't okay with what he did to Henry yesterday.

Telling him that he shouldn't have given into Regina instead of doing what's best for Henry, but as soon as the brunette hits her thoughts she retreats.

Emma just can't have another conflict about Regina right now. Anything related to Regina really.

She isn't any better than Archie, she realizes.

Emma Swan has done quiet a few reckless things and has tabbed into taboos but never had she felt so stupid and worthless and ashamed of herself as having fallen for one of the mayor's games.

Except when Neal had set her up.

Even when she fell into an affair with a married man it didn't leave her feeling like this because she had known what she was in for.

She really has a terrible track record when it comes to picking a lover.

…

Reaching the station, Emma is stunned by a bright yellow car parked in front of the building.

Regina probably had Gus remove the blot in front of her perfectly trimmed hedge first thing in the morning and threatened to have him fired if he so much as breathes a word to anyone about the Beetle ever parking in Mifflin Street over night.

Emma hates the mayor for making her feel like even the slightest interaction with the blonde is a great shame and to be hidden at all cost.

She storms into the station, banning the memories of any connections between her beloved car and the brunette.

Fortunately, Graham isn't in (which she already guessed by the missing cruiser); she probably would've taken it all out on the poor guy.

Or maybe he could've talked some sense into her.

Emma cringes at the idea of discussing last night with him, with anyone.

She doesn't want anybody to know about it. Ever.

She still can't believe how easily she had fallen for the brunette's charm.

For a second she considers Henry's fairytale theory to be true but then she snorts humorlessly.

There wasn't any witchcraft to blame for her stupidity. This was her fault alone.

She had let herself been blinded by what she wanted to see and she had let herself be hurt by Regina showing her she could never get what she yearned for in the most cruel way.

Emma's glance falls onto the dart board on the wall next to her desk and she scans the room for the darts appertaining to it.

A small brown package catches her eye.

It has her name written on it in the most ridiculously neat and pretty handwriting she has ever seen, almost like calligraphy, and Emma knows - she just knows - it's Regina's handwriting and it makes her want to tear the fucking package to pieces.

Rejecting her, throwing her out, making her see just how worthless she is, is one thing.

The hate and disgust and haughtiness Emma knows, that much she can handle and fight.

She could even deal with it being a sick game of earning someone's trust and break them just for the sake of it.

But the pity of returning her belongings in person (more or less) that is written between the lines of 'I owe her as much for giving her false hope' makes her sick.

She might not be the white knight Henry dreams her to be, but she sure as hell doesn't need anyone's pity.

….

Almost two hours early for her shift , Graham finds his new deputy at her desk tearing a package apart, cursing about who the hell writes like that.

"Do I need to arrest you for assault on innocent packages?" he jokes and Emma flinches at his unexpected presence.

"Don't know about innocent," she grumbles, but finally stops her brutal ripping when she holds her red leather jacket in her hands, keys and phone still in the pockets.

"How did that get there?" he questions surprised, leaning against the desk opposite of the one Emma is sitting at.

"Must've forgotten it at the mines yesterday." the blonde explains without looking up.

"Good thing we have honest citizens here in Storybrook."

"Yeah, right," she growls, earning a weird look from her boss.

"Sorry, I just have a headache. I'm probably gonna be grumpy all day," she offers an explanation and apologizing smile for her bad mood.

"I've heard of the celebration at the Rabbit Hole," Graham chuckles.

"I wasn't there, I just have a headache," she says truthfully as she collects what's left of the package wrapping and crumbles it into a ball.

"I know," the sheriff comments, circling the desk he had been leaning against to sit behind it. He rarely ever used the separated sheriff's office behind the glass wall.

"Okay, seriously, you need to get that gossip under control," Emma exclaims, annoyed, but internally she's dreading just how much everyone already knows.

"Well, it is a small town."

"I noticed," she huffs and throws the ball of wrapping paper across the room into the waste bin. At least that's where it's supposed to land.

"Nice aim. Doughnut?" Graham offers, picking up a pastry box from one of the drawers.

"No, thanks," the blond declines, getting up with a defeated sigh to throw the paper ball properly away.

"Really? Because I thought I could bribe you with it into letting me leave an hour earlier." He gives her a sly grin, holding the open box out to his deputy.

"Well, since I'm here anyway, I might as well get something to eat out of it," she shrugs and picks up the only chocolate doughnut.

Fair's fair.

"Thank you."

Emma mutters something under her breath but Graham doesn't push it. The blonde didn't seem like she would tolerate any pushing today.

...

In fact, there would be no pushing for the next week as Emma's mood only gets worse.

It goes from snappy and irritated over quiet and jumpy back to annoyed and distant.

The first few days the blonde waits for the sound of distinctive heels, just so she could finally take her anger out on the right person but the longer she doesn't cross paths with the mayor the more she feels the fight slipping out of her.

Up until that point where Graham ask her to drop off some reports to the mayoral office and she's almost scared to come face to face with the brunette.

She does it anyway, too proud to let anyone believe she fears the mayor like everyone else, but god is she relieved when the secretary takes the folder out of her hands because Regina is in a meeting.

This happens twice more and Emma realize it's bullshit.

Regina is avoiding her.

The blonde feels herself falling into a hole when she thinks about how awful and disgusting it must be to kiss her if it sends a woman like Regina into hiding.

How much of a pity case she is if even the mayor doesn't dare to reject her face to face.

Emma had expected her to play offensive and taunt her and embarrass her and rub salt into wounds whenever she got a chance to but the possibility that the brunette passively deepens her insecurity and abandoned issues had never crossed her mind.

The deputy even starts avoiding Henry. He shouldn't see that something is troubling her and he sure as hell shouldn't find out what's troubling her. Or who.

(And where Henry is, the mayor isn't far. He just can't in the middle of... this.)

Both Mary Margaret and Graham ask her if she's okay when they notice her strange behavior but don't push her further, assuming she just feels a bit overwhelmed by the small town feeling and Emma lets them believe they've got her all figured out.

God, if they knew why she actually keeps her distance…

That thought pulls out the fight in her again.

She's been through several phases of self loathing and insecurity and she's never let it stop her, so if Regina thinks that she can overpower her with her mind games this easily and crush her with a bit of manipulation, she bet on the wrong horse.

The mayor won't get rid of her this easily.

So on a Wednesday morning with Henry and Mary Margaret at school and Graham on call for the morning shift, she takes her chance and drives directly to the mansion, parking her bug stubbornly in plain view. She even wears the red leather jacked just in spite.

She knows Regina is home. The office only opens at 1pm on Wednesdays.

"Regina. Regina, I know you're there!" the blonde hammers on the door and she doesn't give a damn if the neighbors can hear her.

"Come on, open up. I can do this all day," she shouts, pounding on the door some more until it gives away under her hand.

"Miss Swan - what on earth do you think you're doing?!" Regina protests when Emma walks right passed her.

"Get out of my house," the mayor orders, holding the door open.

"No." Emma just stands in the foyer, arms crossed, and shoots daggers at her.

"Miss Swan-" the brunette starts, her voice low and dangerous, as she lets the door fall close and steps up to the other woman.

"Miss Swan me all you want but you won't get rid of me until we've-"

"We won't do anything. You will leave. Or I will have you arrested!" the mayor exclaims, the vein in her forehead starting to show.

"No, you won't."

Regina looks like she's close to strangling the blonde but instead she crosses her arms and challenges her with an annoyed quirk of her eyebrow.

"Humor me, Miss Swan: why won't I?"

It's a dangerous dare to take but Emma is beyond caring.

"Because you're scared of me."

"I am no such thing."

"Yes, you are. You feel threatened by me. You feel your pretty little facade crumbling because there's finally someone who won't buy your bullshit. And you fear someone might find out that you like it." Emma has no idea where this sudden confidence came from but somehow she knows she hit home with her bluffing.

There's an unbelieving, sarcastic chuckle for stalling purposes.

"This is absurd, Miss Swan. I don't have to listen this. You come into my house and..."

God, it frustrates the hell out of Emma how Regina never listens and accepts. She always tries to worm her way out of certain subjects and Emma just wants her to shut up and for once admit she's wrong.

It takes a fragment of a second and Emma has grabbed the collar of an expensive blazer and stops the bullshit out of the brunette's mouth by pressing her lips against it.

Regina gasps in surprise, her eyes widening, and the deputy uses it to sneak her tongue past full lips.

Offense is the best defense.

But the mayor won't let her win. Never.

Regina grabs blonde tresses, but instead of pushing Emma off, she harshly shoves her backwards until the deputy's pressed against the wall behind her.

It forces a gasped moan out of the blonde and she smirks. Finally they're back to the familiar fighting game.

Before the mayor knows it, she is the one pressed against the wall. She pushes and pulls on every part of the other woman to gain back the upper hand but the only thing giving away under well-manicured hands is red leather.

And then a gray t-shirt.

Regina ranks her nails over a deliciously toned abdomen and receives a groan.

The distraction is enough to be in the lead again. She pulls the blonde away from the wall.

"Regina-"

She silences the protest short handed with a promising kiss – or maybe it was meant as a dare or threat – and pulls the blonde further into the house by her belt loops. Emma's lips eagerly search out hers again, hands roaming as they stumble their way to the couch in the living room...


	3. telling her

**A/N: So, I went back and fixed the previous chapters with the help of queergirlwriting. (Though I probably still missed a lot of grammar errors she pointed out to me.)**

 **Here's a mini chapter to not keep you waiting any longer.**

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A slight chill running down her spine pulls Emma back to consciousness.

For a second she's confused, but the memories come floating back in pictures behind closed eyes, in touches and noises and smells, and in Oh God and Yes and Fuck and Right there.

The blonde grins to herself in post-orgasm bliss (and what orgasms they were), rolling over to the other side and pulls the blanket tighter around her.

Her eyes fly open and she sits up as she stares at the thin woolen blanket covering her naked body.

Scanning the living room, the feeling in Emma's gut tightens and she suddenly feels cold which had nothing to do with the actual room temperature.

Regina is nowhere in sight.

Even the trail of clothes they left is gone. Instead there's a stack of neatly folded clothes with a pair of boots next to the couch?.

Of course Regina ran.

Again.

The blonde rips the blanket of her body, nostrils flaring, and gets up to dress.

She's had it with this woman.

If Regina wants to play this manipulative game of hide and seek, she can play it on her own.

Emma won't let the mayor make her a dirty little secret to be ashamed of, a disgusting mistake you want to hide.

For a split second, Henry flickers through the deputy's mind but she shakes it off.

No, this was simple no strings attached sex, a stress relief. No one had to get hurt if they both could just behave like adults but obviously Regina couldn't.

And if she ever dares to say a word how the Deputy's a runner, Emma is going to fucking kill her.

With anger bubbling inside, the blonde stubbornly leaves the blanked messily flung over the couch and leaves the manor without looking back as soon as she's dressed.

At least her car is where she left it.

But before she even has the chance to unlock the door, her phone rings in the inside pocket of her jacked.

It's Graham.

But her relieved sigh turns into a guilty grimace when she notices the time.

"Hey Graham," the blonde answers the phone as she unlocks the Bug and climbs in. "I know I'm late, sorry."

"And this in your probation period," the sheriff chuckles.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm on my way now."

God, Regina really had to ruin everything for her.

"It's okay," Graham responds indulgently. "I was just a bit worried 'cause Mary Margaret didn't know where you were either."

"You called Mary Margaret?!" Emma almost squeaks in panic.

She hadn't told her roommate anything and Mary Margaret was already in school when the blonde went to the manor but how the hell is she going to explain where's she's been – because if Graham's worried, Mary Margaret is probably close to filing a missing person report.

"Yeah, I thought maybe you overslept."

"No, I-I had a few errands to run but I'm on my way now," the deputy explains vaguely, turning on the engine for proof.

In her head she's already working on an acceptable reasons why she spent a good three hours at the manor. Knowing Storybrooke, someone will have seen her car parked in Mifflin Street.

"It's against the law to drive and be on the phone, Deputy," Graham jokes dryly.

"I'm not driving yet, Sheriff," Emma mocks him lightly.

"I had to make sure. The town can't afford to have any more broken signs."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" the blonde sighs but smiles.

It's so easy to get along with her boss who is turning into a friend rather quickly.

"I don't think so."

"I'm hanging up now, unless you want to pull a double-shift."

"Sorry, got that council meeting in an hour that I can't miss. Regina has been extra... irritable lately. See you in a few." The sheriff hangs up with those words and leaves Emma alone again with the question of how she can fucking pretend she isn't late for work because she was too busy screwing the mayor.


End file.
